Collateral damage
by Sams Tie
Summary: How bad can a day end that starts with a good cup of coffee?
1. Chapter 1

A small, slender hand pierced through the tiny gab of the closing elevator doors and forced them open again. Donna sighed, watching her bubble burst to get those last two minutes of silence. She put a sort of friendly smile on her face and glanced at the intruder – then smiling in sincere joy. "A very beautiful good morning. Isn't this day just wonderful, Mike", she said, grinning when he moaned and leaned the back of his head against the cool elevator wall.

"Not funny", he grumbled, his eyes closed.

"Looks like someone has really slept well." Donna sighted his pale face with those dark under-eye circles and her maternal instinct dawned. She sighed again and nudged Mike's shoulder. "Don't tell Harvey that I gave you his dearly-beloved coffee. But you're really desperate for some caffeine."

"Donna, you angel of mercy, Lady Bonitful, gracious and wise woman – I owe my life to you", Mike answered and accepted gratefully the gift. He sniffed and sighed with relief, holding the hot paper cup cautiously in his hands, and stepped out of the elevator when the doors opened.

"Just don't spill it", Donna gave him a smiled warning and walked away.

When Mike arrived at his cubical, he was even more grateful for the coffee in his hands. Although the intervening time between him leaving this desk last night and coming back now felt like seconds and in fact were two hours and ten minutes, there were at least a dozen files on his desk, stacked and waiting. Mike swallowed each and every curse that crept upwards his throat and sat down. He sipped at the coffee, relieved him from his briefcase and took one last, deep breath before he faced up to the mountain of work.

The first file was no big deal, he finished it within half an hour and leaped to his feet. For a second or two he felt dizzy and was a little unsteady on his feet.

He shook his head to get rid of the feeling and grabbed the file. _Less coffee, more water, _he thought and walked to Louis' office. _And something to eat. Yeah, eating in good company like Rachel … _Mike took a peek at his watch. It was way to early to even think about a break. He turned the corner and mulled over a solution of his problem – almost bumping against Harvey.

"Hold your horses, kid."

"Yeah, sorry, my fault. Age for beauty."

"Eleven hundred hours, my office. We are meeting with Baxter. You finished the paper work, didn't you?"

"Was working on it the whole night."

"Good boy", Harvey praised his associate and walked away.

Okay, someone was in a really good mood. And that even without the cup of coffee Donna usually provided him with. Mike began to move again, wondering if this day wouldn't be that bad at all. A few minutes later, he put the files on Louis' desk, appreciating the man's absence. Mike returned to his own desk, suddenly feeling dizzy again. But it couldn't keep him from grinning. No, not now, not today. He took a tepidly gulp of coffee and thought about refilling the paper cup with some fresh coffee from the kitchen, but decided against it. The caffeine would do wonders, no matter if it was tepid or hot.

Smothering a yawn, Mike opened the stack's second file. He scanned the text, grimaced and grabbed the paper cup to empty it. The research would take an hour, perhaps one and a half. Before he rushed to the filing room, Mike glanced over the other files, ensuring that none of them needed to be finished before the meeting with Donald Baxter. He made a circuit to fetch a bottle of water from the fridge and then went downstairs to the filing room. A dull pain spread across his back with every step he took. _Less coffee, more water, better mattress, _thought and decided to put all of it on his to-do list. The idea of mattress shopping with Rachel on the weekend raised a smile.

Two hours later, the work was done and Mike on his way back to his cubical. Meanwhile, his head had started to ache and he had to fight a queasy feeling stomach. Perhaps it wasn't the lack of liquids and a suitable mattress, but he had a cold coming on. Mike, still not content to give up the believe in a good day, tried to ignore the symptoms and delivered Louis the research results. After a brief conversation that actually was Louis giving him more orders and Mike, good as gold, nodding and promising to deal with it immediately after the meeting with Baxter, Mike fetched the papers he prepared for Harvey and left for the senior partner's office.

Of all the clients Mike had the often dubious honor of working for, Donald Baxter was a silver lining: he was grounded, modest and had a great sense of humor. Mike wasn't sure if he was allowed to join the meeting until his near collision with Harvey this morning and now, he was really looking forward to see Baxter again.

"Well, well. Twenty minutes early? Good puppy", Donna greeted him. But her smile faded quickly and she gave him a worried look. "Coffee didn't work well, did it? You look worse than before."

Mike grinned, shook his head and wanted to retort, but fell into a lit of coughing. "The filing room gives me a black lung", he finally managed to answer, accepting the bottle of water Donna presented him. "Thanks." The cold water calmed his throat and stopped the coughing, but swallowing it caused sharp pain.

"Put the files on his desk and then go home. I'll tell Harvey that you are indisposed."

"I'm not indis ..."

"Do you really think, Harvey wants you to sit next to his client, coughing germs at him? Make an educated guess."

"Okay, okay. I surrender unconditionally", Mike responded, Donna looking daggers at him. He sighed, walked into Harvey's office and placed the file on the desk. Donna was right. Of course, she was. Giving Baxter his cold was definitely not the best way to make friends with him. Mike turned around and blinked, as his vision went blurry again. He rubbed his eyes, tried to focus, but felt drained and weak. Somehow, he managed to sit down, bent-forward, gasping for breath, the dull pain in his back and head exploding.

"I already told you: No barking, now growling, you will not lift your leg to anything in this house. This is not your room. No slobbering, no chewing, you ...", Harvey started to quote, but then fell silent. "Mike? If this is some sort of joke ..."

Mike wanted to answer, but he wasn't able to even open his mouth. He grit his teeth, wishing for the pain to go away, to magically disappear. He heard footsteps quickly coming closer, smelled the characteristic aftershave and felt relieved. Harvey would fix it. He always did, somehow. But the touch of Harvey's hands on his shoulders made him to scream with pain. In the twinkling of an eye, his skin was in flames, D_amn!_ P_lease, stop it! _Tears flooded his eyes, _stop it, please, stop it_, his whole body trembled and shook and seized. He fell to the ground, his heart racing, every single cell squalling in pain, frightened voices swashing over him. _Help me … someone … please, help me ..._

He watched the ambulance stopping in front of the building, paramedics rushing to the doors, carrying heavy gear, stern and concentrated looks on their faces, and took some photos. He tried to fight the smile that assumed control over his lips, but failed. Now he felt certain: not using all of the stuff was the right decision. He would take copious photographs, enough to fill dozens of photo albums. Even if they caught him – he knew that he could stand being imprisoned, as long as he had those pictures to look at, over and over again, giving him the exhilarating feeling that he finally defeated him. Once and for all.


	2. Chapter 2

In one minute, an average man's heart beats 120 times,  
he takes 12 breathes of air  
and he blinks ten times.

Doors flew open, people rushed in, blue uniforms, shoving a stretcher into the office. A gigantic, Asian looking guy with even more gigantic hands knelt down next to Mike, ripped his shirt apart, buttons jumping through the air, falling on the ground, the second guy, a black curly hair, put a respiratory mask over Mikes mouth and nose, squeezing the sac with practised hand. Their lips rapidly moved, subtle fingers unwrapped bags, but Harvey wasn't able to either understand what they were talking about, or what on earth they where doing. Someone gruffly pushed him aside, the big guy, he assumed, but nothing made any sense. Harvey felt like being trapped in some sort of slow-motion bubble, being doomed to watch everything without having any chance of helping. But then – helping to do what? He not anywhere near knew what was going on.

"... cardiac arrest ...", someone functionally said.

"Cardiac arrest?", another voice repeated, female, filled with fear.

The words crept through his ears into his mind, settled down in a corner, looking around with big, mad eyes, and suddenly started to laugh viciously. Harvey slowly shook his head in disbelief, staring at the surreal scene, one man still squeezing the sac, the other one pushing his hands against Mike's chest. What the hell ...? _No, nonono! _Harvey suddenly leaped up to his feet and clenched his fists. "No, you hurt him! Stop it! You hurt him!" He tried to reach the man, to stop him, hell, why was he hurting Mike?, but someone grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back, away, further and further.

"Look at me! Harvey! Look. At. Me."

Someone grabbed his chin, yelled at him. Harvey blinked, detached his eyes from Mike and looked at the man in front of him. Louis. Where did Louis come from? When had he entered his office? And why didn't he help him? "They hurt him", Harvey frantically mumbled. He sensed Louis' hands on his shoulders, heavy and yet soothing.

"No, they don't. They know what to do. Trust me", Louis answered.

Harvey closed his eyes, his heart toughly pounding so much that he was sure it would pierce through his ribs any second.

"He's breathing", Louis said. "Here me? Mike is breathing."

In one minute, an average man's heart beats 120 times.  
He takes 12 breathes of air.  
And he blinks ten times.  
Harvey never had guessed sixty seconds to be so damn long, when none of those things happen.

Donna took a deep breath. "He looked tired, you know. Pale. But not sick and definitely not that sick." She pursed her lips. No, she wouldn't cry. Not again. Enough tears for one day. She had to think straight, there was work to do, questions to answer. Mike surely needed some clothes, a pair of pajamas, shorts, socks. And towels, his tooth brush – okay, she would have to make a list. But first things first. "Before he entered Harvey's office, Mike stopped at my desk. At that time he looked sick. He coughed. I thought he had a cold. But he was still smiling, joking."

The blond nurse nodded, taking notes. "Do you know anything about his medical records?", she asked without looking up. Her wrinkled face made her look old, inconceivably old, but her eyes were mild and attentive.

_S. Jules_, her name tag said. Donna watched Mrs. Jules' fingers quickly move over the paper, the skin of her hands less than half as old looking as the one on her face. _Weird, _Donna thought, suddenly remembering that there was still a question to answer to. She cleared her throat and said: "No, I don't, but he wasn't sick for one day in two years."

"Any allergies you know about?"

"None."

"What about his family?"

"There's no one left."

Finally, Mrs. Jules looked up from her notes and gave Donna a warm smile. "Okay, thanks for your patience, Ma'am. Please take a seat in the waiting room, we will inform you as soon as there are any news."

Donna shook her head, irritated and speechless for a moment. "Wait – you haven't told me yet what's wrong with him."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know. The doctors are still examining him."

"But you must have a guess."

"Ma'am, I'm really sorry, but ..."

"Sorry my ass!" The words slipped out of Donna's mouth, loud and rude, before she could stop them. She knew that yelling at this nurse wouldn't help, not at all, but she had to know what was going on in there. For God's sake, Mike's heart stopped and hearts didn't stop because of colds or little ailments! The least this nurse could do was being honest. Donna took some deep breaths and continued: "Excuse me, please. But I had to watch a very dear friend of mine lying on the ground, dying. I just want to know, why."

The nurse sighed. "Perhaps food poisoning. But don't get me wrong, it could just as well be something completely different."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now please, sit down."

Donna walked to the the empty rows of blue plastic chairs, clenching her teeth so much that they crunched. Food poisoning? What did she take her for? A dizzy blonde?

She was there when the potato salad fiasco four years ago took place. People vomiting in wastebaskets, if they were lucky to find one, running a fever, everyone groaning with pain caused by stomach cramps, their faces pale as ashes, cold sweat on their foreheads. To this day, Donna steered clear of anything that even looked like potato salad.

Mike? He hadn't shown any of those symptoms.

She wasn't sure if Mrs. Jules was lying to calm her down, to hide a far more serious disease or just to get rid of her, but considering her being a nurse for at least twenty years, Mrs. Jules damn well knew that it wasn't food poisoning.

"Donna."

She involuntarily winced and turned around. "Harvey." Donna felt relieved to see him back on his feet, his facial color almost normal again, although his hair and clothes were ruffled and his tie had gotten out of place. Something, Harvey usually deemed inexcusable. Her brain told Donna that there was nothing Harvey could possibly do to fix this situation, to fix Mike and get him out of this place – but deep inside she knew that Harvey would work things out so that everything ended well. He always did, didn't he?

Harvey wryly smiled and sat down on the chair next to her. "What did they say what's wrong with him?"

"He's going to be just fine."

"Wasn't exactly my question, was it?"

"I'm always right, aren't I?" She tried to smile, but wasn't sure if it worked. "I have to go to his apartment, bag him some clothes, comics, music."

Harvey nodded. "I'm gonna stay."

Donna sighed, stood up and turned around to leave. But then, fingers clasped around her wrist, holding her for a moment. She closed her eyes, swallowed and smiled away the tears. "I'll be back within an hour. Just make sure that he doesn't catch another puppies' fleas."


	3. Chapter 3

Steve was afraid of what was waiting for him in this room. His heart started to pound faster, heavier. What, if he was too late and Harvey already died? Or, even worse, Harvey was not only alive, but awake and going to be well soon? Sitting there in his bed, smiling, laughing at him? Steve held on to the wall when a wave of dizziness swashed over him. No, this was the old Steve. The weak Steve. The poor little couldn't do better Steve. But this Steve didn't exist any longer. He killed him, burned the corpse and spread the ashes.

He swallowed a couple of times and sprang to attention. Before he entered the room, the new Steve put a friendly smile on his lips and the patient's chart he stole downstairs under his left arm. He could do this. He would do this. He was prepared. _And I will enjoy every single second of it, _Steve thought, while he pushed the door open.

But when he set his eyes on the patient in the bed, he froze. Two words alternately exploded in his head: _What? _and _No! _Just when he wanted to step out of the room again to check on the room number, Steve realized that he knew the patient. And oh my God, this was good. So damn good! He started smiling again and took a pretty small camera out of his pocket. He arranged the cam the way he hoped it would provide him with the best view. Then he pulled a slim ampulla out of his other pocket and trickled some tiny drops into a plastic cup with water standing on the bed stand. Steve looked at the young man for one last time, before he left the room and went straight home. He couldn't wait to watch this special show on his laptop.

Harvey didn't care about those two police men who followed him to Mike's room. He just wanted, no, he needed to see him. Harvey tried to talk some piece and patience into himself, but it didn't work. All the way down the hall he chewed on his lips, a very bad habit he got rid of during High School – at least he had thought so.

But the moment he opened the door and saw Mike lying in the bed, pale, yes, but breathing on his own, the machines making rhythmic, non-alarming sounds, he instantly calmed down. He pulled up a chair to the bed and sat down, noticing that only one of the officers had entered the room with him. The other one probably kept watch outside. The doctors still hadn't told him what was going on, but in consideration of the fact that the cop who was now standing right behind him had asked, if Harvey knew anyone who would want to hurt Mike, enemies of any kid, they hadn't exactly left much room for interpretation. Someone had tried to kill Mike. And the name that came first to Harvey's mind was: Trevor.

"Sir, I need to ask you some more questions."

Harvey considered it unlikely that Trevor was directly responsible, that this little bastard tried to kill Mike, that it was some sort of vendetta of Trevor's. But he believed that it was more than likely that Trevor got himself into trouble, once again, and somehow dragged Mike into it. Harvey nodded deliberately, but didn't take his eyes off Mike.

"I asked you, if you could think of anyone who could want to hurt Mr. Ross."

"Mike had a shot affair with an old friend of his. She was married and after Mike ended the affair, she told her husband who gave Mike a black eye. But that settled the case, I guess." Harvey didn't believe that this had anything to do with Mike almost dying today, but he didn't want to risk anything. Perhaps the couple got divorced, the husband blamed Mike and now the bottled-up hatred had exploded. Not very likely, but he needed to make sure that the cops followed every lead. "Then there's Trevor, another old childhood friend. He's not violent, but has a talent for getting himself into trouble and Mike was always the one who bailed him out."

The officer took notes on a small, battered pad, the pencil he used covered with bite marks. Definitely no pen Harvey would want to hold for one second. "Do you know their full names?"

"He never told me the woman's name, but perhaps my secretary knows. And Trevor … Trevor Evans." Out of the corner of his eyes, Harvey noticed a smallish move of Mike's left hand. Without thinking about it, he took Mike's hand and squeezed it gently. "Mike?" Mike's eyelids flickered and he grimaced. "Wake up, sleepy head. There's work to do. Don't even think about this giving you an excuse for anything." Finally, Mike won the fight against the weight of his eyelids and forced them open. "Hey, kid. You know where you are?" Harvey saw how hard the young man tried to focus, to concentrate, while Mike's eyes reflected his confusion and lostness. No, Mike didn't know where he was. Perhaps he didn't wasn't even sure about who he was. "Mike? Can you here me?"

"Sir? You have to leave. Just for a moment", someone said.

Harvey turned around and looked at a very young man in a white doctor's overall. The overall seemed to be to big, as if he borrowed it from his older brother. Harvey resisted the urge to ask that kid if he still had some of his baby teeth. "I'll be back, Mike", he said instead, stood up and left the room together with the cop. At the same moment the door snapped shut, Harvey eyed the cops stony-faced. "I need to know what's going on."

"The doctors found traces of a poison in his blood. They sent it to the lab for analysis." He shrugged, shook his head. "With all those associates at the office, it could be a prank gone wrong. Wouldn't be the first time. Kids do stupid stuff." He stashed the pad in his pocket and started to chew on his pen.

Harvey nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. "But that's not what you think. You think someone tried to kill him." He opened his eyes again and saw the stern look at the man's face.

"At this time, we can't rule out anything. We are searching his place and the office to find the source and to make sure that no one else gets hurt."

"You should call Mr. Litt. If anyone can find out if this was a prank gone wrong or not, Louis is the man." He heard a noise in his back, turned around and saw the doctor leaving the room. "How is he?" _Fine, _Harvey begged_, just tell me that he's fine. _

"He's stable, but not out of danger. He fell asleep again."

Not out of danger. _Is he going to die?, _Havey wanted to ask, but he just couldn't say it. He swallowed, a lump in his throat, his hands sweating again. "Can I go back in?"

"I don't mind. But he needs to rest. Don't wake him up and don't upset him."

"I won't", Harvey promised and slipped back into the room.


	4. Chapter 4

„Listen to me carefully, because I won't repeat it another time for you", Rachel said slowly, stressing every single word, her hands folded on the desk, staring at the big, broad-shouldered officer who leaned against the wall, cross-armed: "I haven't seen him last night. I haven't seen him this morning. And thanks to you, I haven't seen him after the incident happened." Rachel combatively moved her underjaw forwards, still staring at the officer, not a single piece of kindness left, her voice icy and precisely. "The last time I saw him was yesterday about eleven pm, when I went home and he told me he had to work late. I know that he came home, I know that he hit the bed for a while, that he showered and put on some fresh clothes. But I didn't see him, didn't talk to him, because I was sleeping and when I woke up, he had already left for work. He sent me a single message via cell this morning, asking me out for lunch. I wanted to reply, but was interrupted by a superior." She took a deep breath, stood up and took her purse. "I don't know what happened to him. I don't know what he did all morning. I don't know anything. And now, I'm going to leave this room and get a cab to the clinic to see him. Have a nice day, Sir."

With grim determination, Rachel walked across the conference room, opened the door and shut close it behind her. She walked down the hall and turned a corner, before she pressed her back to the cold wall, closed her eyes and sighed. For a second or two she thought, the officer would follow her, grab her arm and pull her back into the room to ask the same questions over and over again. But no one followed her, no one made her to go back. So, Rachel tugged at her blouse, craned her head and started to move towards the elevator.

Damn, she needed to know what happened to Mike. Why hadn't anyone called her to … "Damn", Rachel quietly swore and angled for her cell. With clumsy fingers the young woman switched her cell on and then entered the elevator. That stupid cop had made her to turn it off when he started to question her. Rachel glanced at the display to figure out how much time had passed.

Almost one and a half hours.

Great.

Angrily, Rachel pushed the button to the first floor. Her cell started to ring, the name Donna on the display. "Donna? How is he? What's going on? Why is the police all over the building? Is my okay? Please, tell me that he is okay", she begged, realizing that she had to stop talking to give Donna at least the chance to answer some of her questions. It wasn't actually easy, but Rachel managed to shut her mouth and wait for Donna to start talking, while the elevator carried her downwards.

"I just got a call. Harvey is with Mike and he's ok. Unfortunately, there's forensics all over Mike's place so I can't get anything for him. Do you have some spare clothes at your place?"

_He's ok, _Rachel heard the echo of Donna's voice in her head. _He's ok. _Rachel sighed and closed her eyes. Okay, Mike was okay. Must have looked worse than it really was. Perhaps the people she had heard talking about the incident immoderately exaggerated. Thompson's words crossed her mind, the one's that scared her the most: _They had to shock him a couple of times. He was dead, for about a minute. _With a soft pling the doors of the elevator opened and Rachel quickly left it, ran towards the building's entrance and stepped out in the cold. "Let's meet at my place. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes", Rachel answered, her eyes searching for a cab. "And Donna?"

"Hm?"

"You are absolutely sure that he's fine, you are not just cuddling me, aren't you?"

"He's fine, Rachel. See you soon."

"I'm on my way."

* * *

The moment the officer bent down to Mike, Harvey moved in between the two of them and forced the man to step backwards.

"What do you think you are doing?", the officer sharply asked and stared at Harvey. He was not amused, definitely not, but neither was Harvey.

"That's exactly what I intended to ask you", Harvey replied, his voice lowered, but still pronouncing every word very precisely.

"He has to be interviewed."

Harvey scornfully smiled and whispered: "You must be joking, officer. The kid is barely conscious."

"Do you realize that you are obstructing the police?"

"Do you realize that you are risking that kid's life?"

"I wished there was another way, but only Mr. Ross knows what he did or didn't do today."

"Fine. But we will do it my way. I'll ask the questions and the second it's going to be to much for Mike, I'll stop. If you insist on questioning him by yourself, I'll sue you for endangering my client's life. Is that understood?"

The policeman pursed his lips and crunched his teeth. "Let's try it your way. But don't get me wrong – I don't like being threatened."

Harvey nodded, sat down and tried to catch Mike's eye. "Mike? Can you here me? Mike?" He reached his hand out and put it softly on Mike's shoulder, just to feel the kid wincing. "It's okay, Mike, no need to be afraid. It's me, Harvey. Mike, can you please look at me?", Harvey tried to get Mike's attention, but the young man still didn't spare him a glance. His eyes were half closed, his face pale and there was cold sweat on his forehead. Not out of danger, the doctor had said. The longer Harvey set next to Mike, watching his thin, slender body lying in the big, white bed, the more fragile the kid seemed to become.

Harvey swallowed, cleared his throat and harshly spit out the sentence: "Mike, look at me right now and concentrate or consider yourself fired." Immediately, Harvey regretted his tone, but he didn't know how else to filter down to Mike. Luckily, it seemed to work – Mike finally managed to look at him. He blinked, tired and confused, but now waiting for answers, orders, anything to explain why his world was put upside down and how they planned to put things right again. Unfortunately, Harvey couldn't provide him with any answers. He took a deep breath and said: "Mike, I have to ask you some questions. I'll keep it simple, so that you mostly only have to answer with yes or no. Are you okay with that?"

Mike was hardly able to separate his lips and open his mouth a bit, but somehow he found a way to very quietly mumble: "Yeah."

"Good boy", Harvey replied and gave Mike a short smile. He glanced at the paper the officer had handed him."You spent the last night at the office to finish the contract for me. At what time did you leave?"

"About five."

Harvey heard a pen scraping on paper close to his ear and smelled the policeman's aftershave. "Did you see anyone who shouldn't have been in the building? Someone you didn't know, you couldn't place?"

"No."

"Did you ride home on your bike?", Harvey asked, although he knew the answer. Mike always went to work and back home by bike. Not exactly Harvey's favored means of transportation. Actually, he had dreamed about Mike on his bike getting hit by his car more than once. He always thought, the stupid bike would be the reason for his associate ending up at a clinic.

Mike nodded softly and groaned.

Perhaps he should call for a doctor to watch over the kid, while he was interviewing him. Just to make sure that someone was there when things went south. Harvey looked at Mike who was waiting for the next question. "Did you stop anywhere on your way?"

"No."

"Not even at any red traffic lights? Did you stop at any time?", the cop barged in.

"No", Mike repeated and glanced at the cop.

Harvey wasn't completely sure, but it damn looked like Mike hadn't noticed the other man's presence, until now. What was Mike thinking? Did he know what happened at his office? The pain, the seizures, the screams? Once again, Harvey cleared his throat and told himself to focus. "Back at your place, did you eat or drink anything?"

"No."

"Did you open any mail?"

"No."

"So, you went straight to bed?"

"Yes."

"Did you see or here anything out of the ordinary?"

"No." Mike coughed on the quiet, grimaced, his left hand grabbing the blanked, his eyes closed. Time passed and the cough started to sound scratchy and rattling. Mike had troubles to breath and when he finally stopped coughing and put his hand down on the blanket, his lips were slightly blue.

Harvey waited, until Mike opened his eyes again. "Do you want to continue?"

"Yes."

"You went back on your bike, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Any non-planned stops?"

"No."

"When you entered the building, did anyone touch or graze you?"

"No."

"Did anything happen that wasn't part of you daily routine?"

This time Mike hesitated and his eyes wondered across the room, the look on his face suddenly absent. "Donna", he whispered.

"You met Donna on your way to the office?" _Donna, _Harvey thought, _I have to talk to Donna. _He had called her, but they had hardly bandyed two sentences.

"Yes."

"And the two of you talked?"

"Yes."

"Anything else?"

"Donna gave me ...", Mike began, but started to cough again.

Harvey grabbed the plastic cup from the bed side and shoved one hand gently under the back of Mike's head, helping him to drink some sips of water. When he put the cup back on the table, he noticed something reddish on the edge. Harvey instantly looked at Mike's lips and saw the blood at the corner of Mike's mouth._ Damn it! _"Get some rest, kid. We will go on talking later." He stood up, smiled at Mike and then prudently signaled the officer to follow him outside.

"We were just starting to get some answers", the officer snorted.

"You can ask my secretary about their little chat. Donna Paulsen. I need to get him a doctor. The kid started to cough blood", Harvey replied and walked away without waiting for any response.


	5. Chapter 5

Mike didn't want Harvey to leave, but he was grateful for the questions to stop. It was far to hard to focus, to follow Harveys' words, to understand what his friend wanted to know – and even more difficult to answer. Mike had never believed saying a simple yes or no to be that exhausting. He closed his eyes and hoped for sleep, but fell into a fit of coughing. He reached out for the plastic cup, but wasn't able to take it. He lowered his hand, laid it back in the blanket and realized the copper taste in his mouth. For a moment Mike thought he knew what it meant, why it was there, but the answer slipped trough his fingers and vanished in the dark.

"So, tell me: what did you do, stupid boy? Crash your bike? How often have I told you to drive carefully?"

A thousand times, Mike thought, smiled and half-opened his eyes. She sat on a chair next to his bed, her eyes worried, but her face glooming with confidence. "Didn't crash", he mumbled the best he could and briefly closed his eyes. No, there was no accident. At least none he remembered. Was that what happened? Did he drive to work and crash his bike? Got hit by a car? Or just lost control and fell? Mike sighed and started to cough again.

"Coughing, I get it. You got yourself a nasty little bug. Got the flue? Or is it pneumonia?", she asked and her voice sounded dispraising. "You didn't wear a cap or a scarf and now you are sick. You have to take better care for yourself. This happened because you never listen to me. Well, now I'm here, why don't I make some hot chocolate? And you'll have to eat soup to get well." She stood up, looked around and asked: "Where's this Harvey guy? Isn't he supposed to be here?"

"Rest", Mike mumbled, having difficulties to understand everything she said. Too many words. Too long sentences.

"Harvey rests? That's nice for him, but what about you?"

"No." Mike coughed and grit his teeth, hot pain streaming through his lungs. He felt dizzy and nauseas, had to wait for the feeling to fade. "I rest", he finally managed to say.

"Yes, you have to rest. So close your eyes and get some sleep. I'll wake you up when it's time for soup and tea."

"Chocolate", Mike mumbled.

She softly smiled. "Of course, and hot chocolate."

* * *

His printer hadn't stopped producing pictures for almost an hour. There were just so many damn good snap-shots! His favourite ones were the kid, lying in the bed with blood on his lips, because of the way Harvey looked at him – all spooked, desperate and worried; and then there was the photo of Harvey helping the kid to drink the poisoned water. He had enlarged those two pictures so that they each filled a whole page in his album. Perhaps he should make a copy of the last one and visit a tattoo shop to imprint the image on his underarm to be able to look at it, everywhere and any time. Steve smiled at the idea and took a sip of his coffee. The kid was already delusional, seeing people who weren't there. Due to the lack of a microphone, Steve couldn't here Mikes' words, but he saw him talking and smiling at an empty chair. Steve leaped on his feet and walked into his kitchen to fetch another plateful of cake, humming a sunny melody.

* * *

"The elevator?", Donna asked and frowned.

Rachel folded a couple of t-shirts and thought about taking Mike's laptop and his favourite movies to the clinic. She didn't know how long Mike had to stay there, but definitely knew how easily he got bored.

"I already told your colleague. Mike looked pale and exhausted, but not … no, nothing unusual. There were just the two of us. I don't know why Mike told you this, but there wasn't ..." Donna's slightly angry voice faded.

Rachel looked up, glanced at her friend and frowned. She stopped folding the t-shirt in her hand and watched Donna who suddenly was pale herself, looking like she had seen a ghost.

"Coffee", Donna finally managed to say, but it was only a scared whisper. "I gave him Harvey's coffee."

Rachel tried to make sense out of her friends' words, but failed. She gave Mike Harvey's coffee, so what? Why should the police be interested in this?

Tears ran down Donna's cheeks when she dropped her cell and stared at Rachel. "This is my fault", she whispered, "this is all my fault. Rachel, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault."

Confused and worried at the same time, Rachel paced to Donna and hugged her. She felt Donna shivering and shaking in tears, crying and repeating the same words all over again: "I'm sorry, I'm so, so very sorry."

* * *

"You waited for those two cups of coffee. Was there anything unusual?"

Donna shook her head and stared at her hands which were ripping apart a clean tissue. The third one, actually. The bits and pieced of the first and second tissue already ended in the paper basket. She had tried to calm her nerves, but although she was able to stop the tears, she still needed to do something, move somehow. "No, it's been like every other morning. I got our coffees at Angelo's for almost three years, ever since Angelo opened his coffee shop."

"Could anyone have poisoned the coffee?"

Poisoned the coffee. It yet sounded so weird, so unreal. She closed her eyes and saw Rachel's desperate face when she told her the truth about Mike's condition – and the anger that formed in her eyes when Rachel realized what role the damn coffee had played. Donna shrugged, looked at her fingers again. She needed a new tissue. "There are lids on every cup."

The officer wiped the tiny tissue parts into the paper basket and pushed the box with the clean tissues towards Donna. "Who puts them on the cup – Angelo and his staff or the clients?"

"The clients", Donna answered and picked a fresh tissue. She glanced at the paper box. It was green with red roses on it and seemed to be completely out of place. Did the officers have two different boxes, one for women, one for men? Or would they have offered the box also to a male witness? Or perhaps, were there only tissue boxes for women, because men didn't cry?

"So, when you paid your coffees and grabbed them to put the lids on – did anyone talk to you, ask you for something, did you turn around, did you for any reason not watch those two paper cups for a yet so brief moment?"

Donna closed her eyes again and thought about it. Of course, there were been people asking how late it was, bumping into each other, friends calling name to get their attention. It was always crowded, you never just went in, got your coffee and left without any contact with other clients. Something always happened and that made it so damn difficult to tell what happened on this particular one. She couldn't even remember if Angelo served her or if it was Fabrice, his younger brother.

"Mrs. Paulsen?"

Donna shook her head and opened her eyes. "I wished I could answer your question. I wished I could remember. But I can't."

For the first time, the officer encouragingly smiled at her. "Don't worry, Mrs. Paulsen. Most witnesses don't. We'll have a close look at the security tapes." He glanced at his notes and added: "I was told that every document addressed to Mr. Specter goes through your hands. Can you recall any recent threats? Letters of angry clients or opponents?"

At last, a question she was perfectly able to answer. Donna shook her head and pursed her lips. "No, no recent ones. I collected and archived every threat note addressed to Harvey. Most of them are from his time as DA. I can arrange them to be delivered to you."

"Thanks, that will help."

"I'm so sorry … I didn't even think about the coffee. Not for one second."

"It's not your fault, Mrs. Paulsen."

"May I leave? I need to see Mike."

The officer nodded. "You're free to go. If you remember anything, call me."


End file.
